by Joanna Shupe
She glanced at the brougham, examining it for a long moment. Jack couldn’t fathom what she hoped to see.
“No tricks,” he said. “I merely wish for a private conversation while I give you a ride downtown. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Her head swiveled sharply, her face taut. “I am hardly worried about that. You’ve made it abundantly clear I am not your type.”
“And you believe I am puddle scum, as I recall. So, I think we are both safe for the short journey.”
“Fine, but you still owe me the ride even if I refuse your request.”
Hardly a request, but he didn’t bother to point that out. He could allow her to believe she had the upper hand. For now.
They ascended into the carriage, which provided a bit of shade to cut the city heat. Rye wasted no time in flicking the reins and getting them moving along the street. A slight breeze filtered through the conveyance. Justine located a fan on her person and began using it to cool herself. “Well?”
Removing his derby, Jack withdrew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dotted the sweat on his brow. “I understand the legal aid society is hosting a large fundraiser at the Metropolitan Opera House.”
Her hand stilled, the fan hanging in the air, useless, as she shifted to face him. “And?”
“I’d like to escort you.”
“I . . . What?”
“Me, your escort. At the event.”
“You wish to attend the fundraiser?”
“Yes.”
She blinked a few times, her lovely face registering a myriad of emotions. “I don’t understand. This is a society event. You’re not the usual guest.”
“I understand. However, I need to be there. I’m even prepared to make a large donation to the legal aid society, as well.” He knew their legal aid society lived and died by donations. Money kept an organization like that afloat and it took a lot of dough. From what he’d heard, funding was always tight.
“How large?”
He smothered a smile. Of course the do-gooder would ask such a question. “I was thinking five thousand.”
“Fifty.”
Air hissed through his teeth. “That’s extortion. You owe me, remember?”
“My repayment is allowing you to escort me. That alone will cause nothing short of a riot. In fact, my family will likely disown me. Therefore, if you want me to go along with it, then you need to give the legal aid society fifty thousand dollars.”
He could tell by the smug expression on her face that she thought this stipulation would shut down the conversation. That the amount was far too high for him and would prevent his attendance that night.
She underestimated him. Underestimated his reasons for wishing to attend. There was a deal to be made at that particular event, one he couldn’t possibly undertake elsewhere. A deal that would transform him into one of the richest men in the entire country.
More money, more power . . . Wasn’t that the American way?
The idea had come to him a few days ago, when he’d learned of the fundraiser. His interests and her social standing were colliding, and he meant to use the opportunity to the fullest.
And so, he decided to call her bluff.
“Fine. Fifty thousand to your legal aid society.”
She dropped her fan. It clattered to the floor of the brougham but neither of them bothered to retrieve it. “Are you serious?”
“As a pastor on Sunday morning.”
“What if I refuse?”
He’d expected nothing less than a fight from her. She was no idiot. His presence would prove scandalous in her world. She’d likely never be received anywhere decent ever again. The Greenes were powerful, but not so powerful as to bring a criminal into decent society. Hell, those uptown folks snubbed someone for wearing the same dress twice. Jack’s offenses ran a bit deeper than clothing.
Agreeing would, in short, ruin her standing.
That wasn’t his problem. She owed him a debt and he meant to collect.
It was time to turn the screws. “If you refuse, the legal aid society gets nothing. Would you really deprive them of much-needed funding just to save yourself from embarrassment?”
He could almost hear her gnashing her teeth. “It’s hardly embarrassment. What you are asking me to do is rock the very foundation on which society is built.”
“And that bothers you?”
She sighed, her fingers tapping on her knee. “Not necessarily. Society is not for me. I’ve known that for years. However, tradition means quite a bit to my parents.”
Jack didn’t bother pointing out that her eldest sister had married a lawyer who’d assumed a false name, and her other sister, now a casino owner, was playing house with a former casino owner. Tradition was on shaky ground in the Greene household in Jack’s opinion.
“Perhaps I’ll go unrecognized.” A slim possibility, but he thought it was worth mentioning.
“You’re new. That alone would have people talking.”
He stayed quiet. The wheels continued to roll, the familiar buildings and businesses passing outside the window. These were his streets. He knew the locations of the secret opium dens, cockfights and boxing matches. The sex clubs that offered privacy and safety. The policy shops, poolrooms and card games.
And while he loved every bit of it, nothing lasted forever. A king only remained a king if he learned how to adapt.
To do that, he needed Justine.
“Tell me why.”
“Why?”
“Do not play dense. You’re far too keen for that. Tell me why you need to attend this particular fundraiser.”
She was considering it, and Jack could taste victory. He decided to give her a hint of his goal. “I am a man who deals in favors—”
“I am aware, Mulligan. Skip ahead to the fundraiser.”
Arousal slid through him, an unexpected tightening in his groin at her sharp words. He didn’t want to find her sour disposition attractive and yet he liked it. A lot. Most people he encountered were respectful. Courteous. They understood this was Jack’s game and therefore Jack’s rules. And not playing by Jack’s rules meant consequences.
Nearly everyone avoided those consequences.
Everyone except this woman, it seemed.
And fuck, if that didn’t make him hard.
She snapped her gloved fingers in front of his face. “Jack, pay attention. Where did you go?”
“As I said, I deal in favors. Nearly every man, at some point, comes into contact with one of my businesses. I can find ways to reach them and get what I want. A few men, however, remain beyond my reach for one reason or another. Unfortunately, one of these men is necessary for a business proposition I’d like to undertake.”
“Let me get this straight.” She cocked her head and studied him. “There is a man you need to speak to and this fundraiser is the only place you can do it.”
“Precisely.”
“You cannot go to this man’s home and see him there?”
Jack fingered the brim of his derby. “He won’t receive me.”
“Ah.” She stared out the window, grabbing for the strap as they turned a corner. “And you’re hoping to ambush him at the fundraiser. How do you know he’ll be in attendance?”
“Ambush is a strong word—and I know he’ll be there.”
“Then it must be someone important, someone involved with the legal aid society. Hmm.”
He could almost hear her thinking, trying to reason it through. “I won’t tell you his name, so don’t bother trying to figure it out.”
“Or perhaps he is close to my father? Or Frank Tripp?”
Damn it. She was circling the correct answer and he couldn’t allow that. “Do you agree or not?”
“Could I arrange for a meeting with this man outside of the fundraiser?”
The particular man Jack needed would never agree. “You could, but the legal aid society won’t get my donation in such a case.”
She huffed in response,
a sign of annoyance, he supposed. But that didn’t bother him. Whether she liked this or not wasn’t his concern. He just needed her cooperation.
“Let me out here.” She rapped on the roof. The carriage slowed and began making its way to the curb.
They were still several blocks north of the legal aid society. “We haven’t arrived yet.”
“I would rather walk.”
Stubborn girl. He reached down and retrieved her fan. “You might need this, then.”
She took the fan. “The fundraiser is Saturday,” she informed him, as if he wasn’t perfectly aware.
“Yes, I know.”
“Evening dress. I’ll meet you outside at eight o’clock.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll be there.”
She reached over him to throw open the door. Without waiting for anyone to hand her down, she climbed out of the brougham and jumped to the street. “Good. After that you may consider my debt wiped clean. You’ll never see me again, Mulligan.”
The door slammed shut and she disappeared into the crowds of people on the walk. Jack tried to find her in the chaos of carts, shoppers, bootblacks and hawkers. But she was gone.
“Want me to follow her?” Rye called from the front.
“No.”
“Never seen one so eager to get away from you. Usually you’re scrapin’ the ladies off, not the other way around.”
Jack drummed his fingers on the side of the carriage. Justine was hell on a man’s confidence. If he were a weaker man, he might take offense.
A slow smile spread over his face. Good thing he wasn’t weak. Not in the least.
Chapter Six
When she arrived at the legal aid society, Justine went straight to Frank’s office. “Hello?”
“Come in,” her brother-in-law called.
When Justine entered the office, her stomach sank. Mamie was there, as well. Justine had hoped to tell Frank of the donation and avoid questions from her older sister today. Sadly, that was not to be. Best get this over with. “Do you have a moment?”
“Barely.” Frank waved her closer. “Come and settle this dispute for us. Then I have something for you.”
“Dispute?”
Mamie gestured toward her husband. “He’s being difficult. We are discussing the fundraiser.”
“Oh, good. I must speak with you about the fundraiser, as well.”
“Fine, but first my question. As for the reception, I want to serve Moët, but Frank says to go with something less expensive. What do you think?”
“Moët. Nearly everyone there that night will know if you serve low-quality champagne.” Probably not Jack Mulligan, of course. She’d only seen him drink beer. Did he care for champagne? You’ll soon find out.
“Exactly!” Mamie pointed at Frank. “I told you. If you want proper donations, then this must be a proper fundraiser.”
“Fine, but every penny you spend is a penny we cannot use for the legal aid society.”
Mamie patted his hand. “I’ll raise enough to cover the cost of Moët, my hardworking and handsome lawyer.” She glanced at Justine. “Now, what did you need to say about the fundraiser? I hope it’s not in relation to the hors d’oeuvres because I’ve already set that menu.”
“No, it’s not about the food. I wanted to let you know that I’ll be bringing an escort.”
“Oh.” Mamie paused and studied Justine. Understandable, as the family had never seen Justine with a man before at any event. Or ever. “Do I know him?”
She pretended not to hear the question. “And he has agreed to make a substantial donation to the legal aid society.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Frank said, rubbing his palms together. “How much is substantial?”
Justine cleared her throat. “Fifty thousand dollars.”
Papers fluttered from Mamie’s hands onto the floor and Frank’s jaw fell open. “Fifty thousand?” Frank repeated. “Are you serious?”
“Very. He has agreed and I don’t believe he’d go back on his word.”
“Who?” Mamie squeaked as she retrieved her papers. “Who is this?”
“A friend. You’ll meet him at the event.”
“I’d rather have a name now,” her sister said.
“You won’t get it.” Justine could be stubborn, too.
“That means you do not wish for me to know. You think I won’t approve.”
Heat washed over her, yet she did not break her sister’s stare. “I do not need your approval. He’s just an acquaintance, Mamie.” An acquaintance that made her heart race.
Mamie said nothing and the two of them watched each other for a long minute. Justine thought for certain her sister would guess the identity of the escort, blurt it out in front of Frank, but Mamie finally looked away. “I need to visit with Louis Sherry to finalize these details,” she told Frank. “I’ll see you later.”
He came over and kissed her cheek. “Indeed, you shall.”
Mamie walked past Justine on her way toward the door. “This discussion is not finished,” Mamie said softly. Then her sister disappeared into the corridor.
Ready to move on to another topic, she turned to her brother-in-law. “How may I assist you?”
“Come with me to see Mr. Solomon. He thinks he has another wife deserter for you, if you feel up to it.”
Justine sighed inwardly. She wished these sorts of cases were rare, but they were not. She’d barely solved Mrs. Gorcey’s problem when now she had another missing husband on her hands. “Of course. What do you know?”
They went down the hallway and turned left where the other offices were located. “Husband is missing,” he said. “He could have deserted the family or been kidnapped to work on a ship headed out of port. We aren’t sure which, but legally there’s nothing we can do. Maybe you’ll have luck in finding this husband, as you did with the others.”
He knocked on a door. “Come in,” a deep voice called.
They went in and found a woman sitting across from Mr. Solomon. She was young, perhaps twenty or so, and wearing a faded gray cotton dress. She cradled a baby on her lap and a small child fidgeted in the chair next to her. She began to rise, but Mr. Solomon said something in German and the woman relaxed.
“Miss Greene, Mr. Tripp, this is Mrs. von Briesen.” He made the introductions in German for his client. Frank excused himself, off to other duties, and Justine came to stand near Mrs. von Briesen.
“Guten tag, Frau von Briesen.”
The other woman smiled slightly and returned the greeting. Mr. Solomon then spoke to his client in German. When he finished, she nodded and he explained to Justine, “I let her know that I would repeat the conversation for you in English.”
“Very good.”
Mr. Solomon began speaking to Mrs. von Briesen, pausing every two or three sentences to speak in English. “We know her husband visited the World Poolroom in the Bowery on the nineteenth of June. We believe he encountered a group of peter players who drugged and robbed him, then put him on the street.”
Justine winced. Peter players used chloral hydrate in drinks to knock out unsuspecting saloon patrons, leaving the mark completely vulnerable. It was an awful, horrible thing to do.
Mr. Solomon went back to speaking with his client in German. Justine picked up some words here and there, but she mainly watched Mrs. von Briesen for clues. There weren’t any, unfortunately. The other woman showed no reaction, her expression stoic throughout the report. The older child was quiet as well, listening and observing, while the baby slept peacefully on his or her mother’s lap.
“We do know,” Mr. Solomon said in English, “that some of his things turned up at one of the nearby pawnshops. From there we lost track of Mr. von Briesen. He may have been thrown onto a ship leaving the harbor, or he could be living under an assumed name in another part of the city.”
Mrs. von Briesen spoke and Mr. Solomon began a lengthy exchange in German with the other woman. Justine waited patiently, her mind spinning wi
th how to locate Mr. von Briesen. The poolroom was likely her best bet, to see if anyone recalled what happened after von Briesen was put out on the street. Otto Rosen, the society’s head investigator, was thorough, but Justine often had luck in speaking with the girls in the area, the streetwalkers and serving girls. She had a knack for finding men who didn’t wish to be found.
With an apology, Solomon turned to Justine. “She asked why the authorities could not be contacted to find him.” He lifted his shoulders. “I wish I could answer that myself.”
Justine knew why. It was because men ran the world. Devoting police time and resources to locating husbands who had decided to desert their wives was considered a waste. Many officers had even told Justine, There was probably a good reason why he wanted to leave her in the first place. They always added a shrug for good measure.
What kind of world prevented women from divorcing terrible husbands, but shrugged whenever husbands up and left whenever they felt like it?
“What happens next?”
“I’m afraid that’s all we are able to do at this point.”
When Mr. Solomon repeated this for Mrs. von Briesen, she began to tremble, her eyes filling with tears. Justine held out her hand, giving the other woman the opportunity to take comfort if she needed, and Mrs. von Briesen clasped it tightly. Justine squeezed, trying to offer a bit of strength. This had to be nothing short of a nightmare.
“Please tell her that I would like to help her and her family,” Justine said, and Solomon relayed the message. Mrs. von Briesen nodded in understanding. Justine looked back to Mr. Solomon. “I will try to find her husband.”
Solomon appeared relieved. “I know you’ve had some success in the past, Miss Greene, and I do hope you are able to find him. Breaks my heart to turn anyone away when they come to us for assistance.”
“Me, as well. Please, tell her.”
The lawyer informed Mrs. von Briesen of Justine’s pledge and the other woman turned to Justine, her gaze solemn and grateful. “Thank you,” she said in accented English.
“You are welcome,” Justine replied. Then she held out her free hand toward Solomon. “Her file, please. I’ll take it from here.”